


the cure for anything is salt water

by sarahcakes613



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Art, M/M, Post-Episode: s17e23 Heartfelt Passages, Pre-Relationship, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28864092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: Rafael and Sonny get caught in the rain after leaving Dodds' memorial service.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 53
Collections: Barisi Art Challenge 1





	the cure for anything is salt water

**Author's Note:**

> I had no ideas, and then I had one idea, and it was sad, and I'm very sorry.

“Walk me back to the precinct, Carisi? I think I left my case notes in Olivia’s office.”

Sonny nods, knocking back the last of his drink as he stands. Rafael half expects him to wobble, the way he’s been slinging them back all night, but the only sign of his being affected is a slight flush to his cheeks, a certain rosiness that goes right down into his open collar. The longer they’d sat and talked, the more Sonny had unwound, until his tie was stuffed in his coat pocket and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone.

Rafael nods a goodbye to Benson and leaves the bar, waiting for Sonny to finish saying his own farewells. When he emerges, his face is solemn, but his lips curve up into a small smile again when he spots Barba.

It’s early evening, but while the sun is only just beginning to set, the skies are dark already, heavy with stormy possibilities.

“Pathetic fallacy,” Sonny comments, squinting up at the clouds.

“Pardon?” Rafael looks at him.

Sonny gestures up at the sky. “Dark clouds, fitting our dark mood. It’s a pathetic fallacy. If it rains, I bet you at least one maudlin cop back in that bar’s gonna say somethin’ about the angels crying for the sarge.”

“Hm,” Rafael says noncommittally. He doesn’t really know what else to say. It’s not a common feeling for him, but it’s one that’s been possessing him for most of the day. It fits him uncomfortably, like an overly tight suit jacket.

It does rain, the skies opening up and pouring down on them when they are still a block away from the precinct. They make a run for it, leather shoes slapping on the pavement and jackets held overhead for what little protection they might offer.

By the time they get to the squad room, they’re only half-drenched, jackets providing enough shelter that their shirts will probably dry quickly. Their shoes are less fortunate, and Rafael winces as he feels the squelching cold of wet socks against his quickly wrinkling toes.

“Come on,” Sonny leads him towards the crib. “Wait here, I’ll grab some towels.”

Rafael toes off his shoes and peels his socks off with a grimace. The floor is cold laminate and he sits on one of the cots, pushing back to lean against the wall with his feet off the ground.

His own alcohol consumption is starting to affect him, making him feel sleepy enough that having a nap in the precinct bunk room doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Hey,” a large towel, rough and stiff but blessedly dry, lands on his lap. His eyes, which were drifting shut, snap open.

Sonny has another towel and he is running it through his hair before he lets it rest on his shoulders like a cape. He’s hung his jacket up and unbuttoned his black dress shirt, revealing a thin t-shirt underneath. Rafael rubs the towel he’s been given through his own hair and then wraps it around his feet, trying to rub some warmth back into them.

“Shove over,” Sonny says, and Rafael shifts to allow his long legs room on the cot. Sonny sits next to him, back against the wall and legs up. His elbows rest on his knees and his feet are bare.

Rafael tries not to stare at them, at the skin so pale he can see blue veins running along the top of his feet, at the curl of his pinky toes, at the tattoo he’d never known Carisi had. It’s a rosary that wraps around his ankle and drapes over the top of his foot.

Sonny notices him staring and flexes his foot. “Me and my sister got matching ones at the same time,” he says.

“Did it hurt?” Rafael asks, curious.

Sonny shrugs. “More than the one on my bicep,” he says, “but less than the time I got shoved face-first through a plate glass window.”

Rafael laughs, although it turns into a full-body shiver as his nerves all start sending mixed signals to his brain about whether he is cold or warm, dry or damp.

Sonny takes his towel and drapes it around Rafael’s shoulders, for the little good it does.

“Hang on, I think I might have a clean sweater in my locker,” he says.

“I don’t suppose you have a pair of dry socks as well?” Rafael asks, looking pitifully up at him. His own feet, large and without ornamentation beyond a bit of hair on his big toes, are starting to cramp from the cold.

“I’ll check,” Sonny promises with a smile.

While he’s gone, Rafael arranges himself again so he is lying down on the cot, feet up on the thin pillow, legs bent so he does not take up the length of the mattress. When Sonny returns, his smile is gone, but he is holding a bundle of fabric.

“It’s not Harvard, but it’ll have to do,” he says quietly, and Rafael takes the Fordham zip-up hoodie from him and wraps it around himself.

Sonny is still holding something. Two somethings, looking like brightly coloured balls of yarn. They’re rolled up socks in bright blue and yellow.

“Sonny?” Barba asks, because Sonny is staring at the socks, his mouth twisting in pain.

“He’s – he’s never gonna wear them again.” Sonny says woodenly. “I knew he had ‘em cause he always loved to show off his mom’s kooky knitwear patterns, and I just opened his locker and I took ‘em. Cause he’s never going to wear them again.”

Rafael reaches a hand out just as Sonny collapses onto the cot, his thigh inches from Rafael’s head. He covers his face with his hands, the socks falling to his lap. Rafael scrambles to sit up, hovering awkwardly, wanting for all the world to offer comfort and having no idea how.

He settles for putting an arm around Sonny’s shoulders, tugging gently so that Sonny is slumped down against him to counteract the height difference.

“Tell me about him,” Rafael asks. He’d spent very little time with Dodds outside of work, hadn’t even known there was a fiancée in the picture until the funeral.

Sonny does. Through tears, he tells Rafael about the work Mike put in to be seen and recognized for his own actions, not his father’s. Through drying eyes and hiccups, he tells Rafael about their friendship. 

Through a quiet voice, distracted as he rolls warm woolen socks over his feet, his rosary disappearing from view, he talks about how incredibly mortal he feels right now, and how Mike had always been the one who encouraged him to take chances.

As he pulls Rafael’s feet into his lap to put the other pair of socks on him, his hand circling Barba’s ankle and stroking the knob of bone there, he talks about how afraid he is of being alone.

When he leans down for a gentle salt-bitter kiss, asking for comfort without words, Rafael meets him halfway.

**Author's Note:**

> See comments for a tiny fic coda 😉


End file.
